


Face Your Demons

by Camelea



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Granblue Fantasy Versus setting, Mild Blood, Seriously give this man a hug, Spoilers for GBVS chapter 40 onwards and WMTSB, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelea/pseuds/Camelea
Summary: “Why.” the clone spat, glaring at him.“Huh?”The venom in the clone’s voice was so obvious it could have killed Belial on the spot.“I got knocked out while on a mission in Pandemonium. When I came to, I cast aside the sense of discomfort I felt and headed for Canaan to report. What I found there? Ruins. Cilius was nowhere to be found. Let alone anyone else.”Belial hid a wince. Seeing himself, in a way, so bitter was hardly a sight he wished to behold.“I came back to Pandemonium. And who did I find? You. Likely a clone in all aspects, acting around casually.”
Kudos: 5





	Face Your Demons

Muffled footsteps echoed throughout the empty place. Monster corpses behind, his shoes soaked in their blood, Belial was leaving, his mind curiously at peace. With Beelzebub temporarily out of the picture and the Singularities reunited, his job in Pandemonium was done. The play was over. Or was it time for the curtain to rise? The corner of his lips slightly curved up into a sly smile. Two thousand years were enough a wait, it was about time his plan fell into motion. Versus had been an unexpected parameter, but it had naturally played out to his advantage.

Belial paid little mind to his grim surroundings, savoring the dismal peace that reigned. He strid casually, getting ready to spread out his wings as he neared the skies and the sea of clouds below. As he set his foot on a low wall, his movements stopped. His eyes narrowed and his hand fell to his hip. He was all about appearance, but he was neither carefree nor a fool. He did not miss the shifts in the background.

He turned around, unflinching on the outside despite his lips’ faint downturn and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. Yet another side effect of Versus? This could be fun, albeit extremely annoying. He brushed a few strands of his hair nonchalantly.

“Your cosplay skills really hit the spot,” he croaked as he assumed a half combat stance. “So? Mind telling me who you are?”

He sounded as confident as ever, but something was definitely bugging him.

In front of him, a few paces away, a copy of himself stood, wearing a perfectly accurate replica of his old Adjutant uniform. It had been ages since he traded it for the black attire that fit his style better, but he could assert its nature with ease. Was he dealing with a clone? It could surely be another identical version of himself from the dimensions that merged. Yet the atmosphere clinging to the man told him otherwise.

“Trying to ape my dashing looks?” the other Belial taunted. “I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but you sure nailed your novelty effect.”

_Now, that’s my line_ , Belial mumbled to himself.

Spoken bluntly, he would have preferred fists over words to have a conversation with whoever was in front of him. Especially if his hunch proved to be right.

An ominous glimpse of scarlet light came into sight, cutting his concerns short. He flashed a smile. _That_ was something he could deal with. Easy. He gladly welcomed the sharp dagger that was sent his way, dodging it casually. That blade was the first of many.

Still outwardly easy-going, but with renewed focus, Belial danced around the edges, sidestepping some before crouching to avoid others. Patiently he waited for an opening. He had to move close up if he wanted to land a hit.

Eventually, one of the knives grazed his cheek. A bead of blood trickled. He licked his lips, tasting the metallic drip. His grin widened. There it was.

It took but an instant. The blade that had scraped him started rotating as it reverted a scythe-like form. It was already far behind his back. He had rushed towards his clone, summoning crystal-like scarlet claws at the tip of his fingers. He teared through white cloth, not enough to wound his enemy but sufficient to make him step back.

_What a shame_ , Belial whined in his thoughts, _I actually liked those_.

Still, how reckless of his clone was that move? When had _he_ become like that? When did he _use to be_? That played to his advantage, but his pride took a hit. Well, more of a flick.

They traded blows, each trying to grab the other in hopes to tip the scale in his favor. Unsuccessfully. They fought like push and pull. When one got repelled towards the edges of the tower, he’d ditch the jabs, maintaining the status quo by a hair’s breadth. Belial tried to deceive his clone, feigning foolhardiness to jump right back at his throat, but devious strategies were hardly effective on another serpent. He was forced to admit that much.

Yet the more they fought the more the nagging feeling that persisted in the confines of his brains was gradually taking form. It was close to being tangible. And for good reason: his clone’s punches lacked something. Power? Of course, that could have been the case. Different circumstances could easily explain a slight gap between their skill, style and strength.

But there was something else.

The frown adorning the clone’s face. The seriousness in his eyes. His shoulders’ stiffness. The hints of hesitation in his stance. Those were not shortcomings. It was not the lack, but the absence of lack. The man in front of Belial had yet to know grief. He was not fueled by despair.

_Good grief_ , he thought, swallowing a sigh.

Their duel started to feel like it had lasted for ages, and the clone seemed to lose patience. One rash move was enough for Belial to seize his chance. A sweep was all it took to make the other trip. Belial grabbed the man’s neck, summoning scarlet flames before sending him flying. The clone’s back hit the cobblestone with a hard thump. A loud crack resounded. Belial stood still, observing what would come next.

“Why.” the clone spat, glaring at him.

“Huh?”

The venom in the clone’s voice was so obvious it could have killed Belial on the spot.

“I got knocked out while on a mission in Pandemonium. When I came to, I cast aside the sense of discomfort I felt and headed for Canaan to report. What I found there? Ruins. Cilius was nowhere to be found. Let alone anyone else.”

Belial hid a wince. Seeing himself, in a way, so bitter was hardly a sight he wished to behold.

“I came back to Pandemonium. And who did I find? You. Likely a clone in all aspects, acting around casually.”

Belial strid towards what had to be his past self, who by the time he’d gotten closer had managed to stand with difficulty. He looked like he was still willing to put up a fight.

“I don’t mind a thrill or two when fulfilling an assignment, but there have been too many irregulars this time. I’d love to see answers spilling from that mouth of yours.”

The clone lurched at him, aiming his side with a glowing dagger that Belial evaded with ease. He got behind his opponent, whispering in his ear:

“It’s been two thousand years, dear. The world you knew is no more.” he asserted with an insidious tone as he ran a blade through the other’s ribcage. Blood spilled.

At last, his past self finally saw red.

“What?”

His voice came out in a croak, as a mix of ire and loathing. So the gears had finally clicked together. Delightful.

The clone struggled out of Belial’s grip through sheer willpower. A sharp edge, brighter than every other, missed Belial’s throat by next to nothing. They glared at each other. In the clone’s eyes remained nothing but beams of madness. He spread out his six, black wings, readying a powerful strike.

Of course, Belial would not stay idle. He flashed his clone a smug grin and donned his eight-winged form using the chaos matter still contained in his core. He had a significant upper hand in the upcoming fight.

Belial withstood the blow seeking to end his life, the backlash sending them both flying high in the sky. The other, taken aback, gauged him with disgust filling his gaze.

“Where is Cilius?!” the clone yelled frantically, his voice overflowing with reproach. “What happened to him?!”

Spurred on by despair the clone sent countless gleaming needles his way. Belial scoffed. Unable to dodge the edges, he endured the stinging pain, traces of disdain plastered on his face.

“Why are you not by his s…”

When the other approached him, his killing intent evident, Belial parried the long, crystal-like blade aiming to end his life with his bare left arm and grabbed the man’s throat. He was past the point of caring about pain.

“You are the last person I want to hear that from.”

His usual playful attitude was gone, along with the shrewd mercy he sometimes granted his enemies. He squeezed, eliciting a pitiful squeak from the clone.

“You have far exceeded the limits to my patience.”

Belial threw down the weakened clone.

“Anagenesis!”

Waves of power surged through his body, threatening to submerge him. How thrilling, to unleash such intoxicating force. Piercing rays of energy reached his foe before he hit the ground. Belial followed after him through the smoke the blow had released.

His feet met the cobblestone graciously as he folded away his wings and banished the chaos matter from his core. A few steps later, he was towering over the clone, looking down on him.

“You’re barely enough to offer me an entertaining fight, and you dare tell me off for things you know nothing of.” Belial spat as his sole found the clone’s forehead. “You? Of all people? Meaning to ask why I didn’t go against my orders? Don’t make me laugh.”

Tired of trampling on his foe’s head, Belial turned away, shrugging his annoyance off. Lost in his thoughts, he gazed at the evening sky that turned a glowing shade of purple and orange. No matter if he reminisced the past or looked towards the future, it all led back to one man. One purpose. Lectures were lost on him.

What happened to the clone was of little concern to him. After all, it would hardly matter after Versus’ balance was set back to zero. He was so close… and he would allow no interference. May they be from himself.

“I should get going, there are still a few parameters to check before the Grand Finale.”

He took flight, reaching out for higher skies, leaving his past self behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Thanks for taking the time to read that short piece, I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> To be honest, I really like how permissive the multiverse setting in GBVS is and the situations it could possibly create, which is the main reason why I came up with this idea. Still, I didn't delve too deep into GBVS lore, so I'm not sure this work does entirely make sense in that setting. Either way, that was a fun piece to write! I'd love to see Belial face himself a bit more (((and get proper therapy maybe? sir??))).   
> Might as well mention that I did reuse some quotes from fight intros and outros, although I tried to re-translate them from Japanese in order to fit the original meaning better. Hopefully it doesn't feel weird! 
> 
> I guess this came out as yet another character study-ish work (I swear someday I'll write something different... perhaps).   
> As usual, I'd love it if you took the time to kudos/comment if you liked this work, and check the other stuff I write if you're interested!


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